Shirley Holmes: The Youngest Detective
by Sherlock's Daughter
Summary: Sherlock Holmes has a daughter, that he only knew about a few months ago when she was picked up at the orphanage by a woman that claims to be her mother. She came to 221B Baker Street and left her there in the care of her father, leaving no indication that she will return.
1. Introduction

Hello, I'm Shirley Holmes. The world's youngest detective.

I'm 5'5, I have short black hair, barely above my shoulders and wavy like my dad's, Sherlock. Yes, my father's the great Sherlock Holmes. Investigating crimes with his loyal sidekick, John Watson, the blogger. Well, I guess I certainly do take after my dad. Randomly while we're out he tells me to deduce things about random people, to 'test my skills'. I honestly think that if I don't end up as brilliant as him, he will be completely and utterly ashamed of me.

But, I love him anyway. He IS my father after all...

I'm homeschooled because dad doesn't think that the public schools will be 'challenging enough'. But I like it. Staying at home, burying my head in books.

Well, I'm sure that's enough to go on for now. Now, I can begin writing about my journey as a budding detective.


	2. Chapter 1-Freedom

"DAD!" I yelled upstairs.

"WHAT!" he yelled back, clearly cranky.

"MAIL'S HERE!"

"THEN BRING IT UP HERE."

"No, come down here to get it!"

"No, Shirley Holmes, you will bring it up to me _right now_, or you are _grounded_!" he said sternly.

"Dad, you can get OUT of your study once in a while!" I complained.

"BRING. IT. HERE. _NOW_."

"UGHHH!" I grunted and stomped up the stairs and into my dad's study. It was messy and had papers and books all over the place. He was sitting behind his desk reading a paper, probably looking for a case to work on. I slammed the mail on his desk and leaned over his desk trying to make him look at me. But, he just looked through the various sheets of paper, completely ignoring his daughter.

I gritted my teeth and stared into his blue-green eyes with mine filled with anger. Really? Ignoring his own daughter?

"DAD!"

"I don't have time for this, Shirley." He said in a bored tone, flipping through some paper.

I pushed myself back up and stormed out of the room, running into John.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he asked, but I pushed past him and locked myself in my room. I sat on my bed and pulled up Hamlet, and started reading from where I left off, somewhere in the middle. I've read this ten times already, I know what happens, and how, but somehow it never makes me sad. And it's a tragedy!

I guess I'm just _that_ kind of person.

I heard a knock on my door.

"WHAT!" I yelled, looking up from my book.

"Shirley, are you okay?" asked John's kind and concerned voice.

"No! Just, leave me alone!"

"Shirley, I can talk, just open the door."

I hesitated, but got up, unlocked the door, and opened the door to John standing in the doorway. I looked at him sadly.

"Are you _okay?_"

"No! No, I'm not!" I said in an upset tone.

"Well, why don't you talk to me about it?" he asked stepping in and sitting on my bed.

I closed the door and sat next to him. "I don't know _why_ my dad doesn't even _try_ to acknowledge my existence! Does he even _want_ a daughter?"

"Hey, hey, hey." He put his arm around my shoulder as I tried to fight back tears. "You know he loves you."

"Does he?" I asked, looking up at him with eyes full of hurt.

"Yes! Of _course_ he does! You're his _daughter_!"

I looked down and started crying. He hugged me tight trying to comfort best as best as he could.

"JOHN!" yelled Sherlock from his study. "I THINK I FOUND SOMETHING!"

"Just go." I whispered wiping away my tears.

"Bu-"

"Go ahead."

He hesitated, but left closing the door behind him. I fell on my bed making it shake. I lay on my side staring at my hands in front of me. _I will never be able to live up to his expectations of me._ I thought to myself.

_I bet he would prefer a son as well._

I shook my head, trying to erase these thoughts from my brain. I was just torturing myself.

"Shirley, we're leaving! _Don't _leave the house under _any_ circumstances!" yelled my dad. The door slammed, telling me they left.

_That's all he says?_

I sat up and looked around my small room. It was messy, but not nearly as messy as my dad's. I grabbed my phone from my desk and turned it on. 3:21pm. I sighed and opened up my contacts.

John

Sherlock

Mrs. Hudson

Mycroft

I laughed to myself. _Four contacts? How many do regular teenage girls have? 10? 30? Possibly even more? Well, they have social lives, unlike me._

I have good old dad. Who leaves me cooped up in here not allowed to see the natural light of the sun under any circumstances because of 'danger'. Okay, I may exaggerated a bit, but he doesn't let me go out very often. That's all I'm trying to say. Dad wouldn't be back for a while...and it's not even three-thirty...It couldn't hurt to go out for a little while, could it? To get some fresh air.

I nodded. Yep. I was going to sneak out.


	3. Chapter 2-An IQ Above 50 is a Superpower

I put my phone in my pocket and snuck downstairs. I looked around for Mrs. Hudson, but she wasn't here. Good. I opened the door, and slipped out into the cool spring air. I sniffed the wind and breathed out, glad that I was out of the flat.

What do normal teenagers do?

I looked around, and saw a group of teens walking down the street. I walked over in their direction and tried to catch up, but look cool. That _was_ the word they use to describe people, right?

I fought back sighing at myself and tried to imitate how they walked. When they turned to cross the street, a few of them noticed me.

"Hey, are you following us, or something?" asked a boy with brown hair, brown eyes and slouched in his t-shirt, making it even more noticeable that his jeans were falling down.

"No." I answered. "I'm walking this way, is that alright with you?"

He shrugged his shoulders. I rolled my eyes, not being able to help myself.

"Hey! What are you rolling your eyes at!" he yelled, pointing at me with a greasy finger.

"Your stupidity and the fact that you don't seem to notice that your pants are falling down, and the Westie you have couldn't do that, not could it?

_Dangit! I noticed the hair on his jeans._

"How did you know that I had a westie? Are you a stalker?"

"No, I'm not a stalker! It doesn't take a _genius_ to notice that there is fur on your jeans, white, and small. Much like a westie, but I was only guessing there."

"Who _are_ you?"

"Shirley. Shirley Holmes."

"What are you, some nerd?"

"Nerd? And if you mean by nerd, a person who can point out obvious facts, then yes. I am a nerd."

"Haha! You said you were a nerd!"

"And I should be offended because I choose to have a superior IQ compared to your...your...mind."

"Hey, I don't need brain cells if I have SWAG!"

"Oh, dear Lord." I muttered and turned around heading in the other direction toward the old park as fast as I could without running.


	4. Chapter 3-What It Feels Like

I swung slightly on the dirty swing set in the old park. I thought I could act normal, but I can't.

I shook my head, thinking about that poor, poor, ignorant boy.

SWAG? I had no idea what that was, but I had a feeling that I didn't want to know. I sighed, pulling out my phone to check the time.

4:50

I jumped out of my seat. _Had it really been that long?_

I put my phone back into my pocket and ran back to Baker Street. I halted at 221B and opened the door as slowly and quietly as I could, but my heart was still pounding, making it difficult. I swallowed hard, closing the door, and sneaked upstairs. I focused on my feet, and when I got to the top, I looked up at my dad's angry eyes staring down at me.

I froze in fear. I wasn't supposed to leave. I was _never_ supposed to leave.

"Where have you been?" his low voice boomed.

"I-I just went for a walk." I said timidly, slowly stepping down the stairs. He grabbed my wrist which was on the wall, preventing me from leaving.

"I told you to _stay here_!"

"I just wanted some fresh air."

"FRESH AIR?"

"That's what I said." I replied with a bit more confidence.

I glared at me.

"What? Nothing _happened_! Nothing would!"

"You could have gotten kidnapped!"

"By who!"

"I have enemies, Shirley!"

"And _why_ would they take _me_?"

"Because you're my daughter! They could use you to lure me into a trap!"

"What do you mean lure! You're acting like I _mean_ that much to you!"

"Of course you do! You're my daughter!"

I laughed coldly.

"What?"

"You keep saying I'm your daughter-"

"You _are_!"

"...but, you don't seem to think I am, _usually._"

"What are you-"

"To you, I'm just some person living in your flat that has no purpose but to annoy you!" I screamed at him, not being able to take it any longer.

"What?"

"You're acting like I'm _important_ to you! I mean _nothing_ to you!"

He knit his eyebrows and stared at me disbelief. He let go my hand. "Why would you-"

I pushed past him walked into my room. I shut the door and collapsed on my bed. I focused on steadying my breathing until I fell into a deep sleep.


	5. Chapter 4-An Unexpected Visit

When I woke up, it was the middle of the night, and the reflected light from the sun onto the moon shone through my window. I got up slowly and opened my door to the dark unlit hallway. I rubbed my eyes, and stepped back into my room, but I hear a knock at the door. Not hard, or loud. It was light, and so quiet that you had to be awake to hear it.

I walked down the stairs cautiously, turned the knob, and peeked through the small crack. In front of me, stood a young man, maybe 20 bundled up in a large coat.

"Hello? Is Sherlock Holmes here?" he asked.

"Um, he can't come to the door right now." I answered. "Can I take a message?"

"No, no! I need to talk to him _right now_." He insisted.

I shook my head. "Sorry, sir, but he's sleeping at the moment. Is there a problem I can help with?"

"No, this is no work for a child!"

"I'm not a child! I'm fourteen!" I spoke a bit louder.

"Yes, but I need Mr. Holmes' help."

"Well, I'm his daughter."

"You are?"

I nodded.

"Oh well, um. Can I come in?"

"Umm..." I looked back into the house. Dad would probably wake up. I turned back around. "No, sorry. You see, it's the middle of the night and everyone's sleeping."

"Oh...okay..." He handed me a piece of paper. "Meet me here at 1:00 tomorrow, alright? We'll talk about the case."

I smiled and watched him waddle down Baker Street. I closed the door and opened the note. "Henderson's Bakery" it said. I shrugged my shoulders and climbed up the stairs quietly. I stalked back into my bedroom and lay on my bed, setting the piece of paper on the desk. I yawned, and closed my eyes. I would figure out where that was later.


	6. Chapter 5-Trust Me

My eyes fluttered open, and I focused on the piece of paper on my desk that the man gave to me. I stretched my arms, sitting up and looked out the window. The sun was shining and birds were chirping.

I dragged myself out of bed and walked sleepily to the kitchen. My eyes drooped, and I grabbed a bowl and set it on the counter. I opened the cabinet and pulled out some oats. I poured them into the bowl, picked up the bowl and filled the bowl with milk. I glided to the microwave, started to put the bowl in, but pulled it out so I could take out the bottle containing eyeballs. I sighed and set them on the counter.

I put my bowl in for one-and-a-half minutes and leaned on the counter, crossing my arms, and waiting for my oatmeal to be done. The microwave beeped, I opened it, and I pulled out some sugar and poured some in, mixing it in. I felt a hand on my shoulder. I flipped my head around to see dad's tired face.

"Dad!" I said in surprise.

"Shirley. I need to talk to you."

"Wh-what is it?"

"Yesterday you said I didn't care about you."

I looked away, not even wanting to watch him finish. He turned me around and held both of my shoulders, leaning down so we were eye-level.

"Shirley, look at me."

I looked up.

"You said I didn't care about you." He repeated, calmly in his low voice.

"That's because you don't!" I yelled. I tried to walk away, but he held me in place.

"Yes, I do." He replied angrily.

I stared at him full of rage.

"Now-" he began. I looked away.

"Look at me and let me finish."

I looked back at him reluctantly.

"Shirley. I am your father, and I care about you very much, but I can't always be here to make sure you're okay. I have a job, that's dangerous, and I don't want you getting hurt."

"If it's so dangerous, why do you bother training me?"

He knit his eyebrows.

"Teaching me how to deduce?"

"I didn't mean it like-"

I smiled. "You taught me to be like you."

He stared at me for a while, but then shook his head. "No, that's not all there is to being a detective.

"I know. But since that was all you showed me, I thought you didn't actually care."

"Care about _you_? What are you talking about?"

"Well, dad! I'm the daughter of the greatest detective in the world, I've got a decent brain, and you haven't even _asked_ me if I wanted to be like you."

"...You _want_ to be like _me_?"

I nodded. "...yes. It's the only thing I feel like I can do."

"You can do other stuff..."

"Dad. I mean it. I want to be a detective."

"Well...okay." he let go of me and stepped back a bit. "But, we'd have to find something that you could do-"

"I've...already got a case."

"What?" he practically yelled.

"Last night, I was up, and I heard a knock at the door. I went to see who it was, _very cautiously._ And it was a man, looking for you. He said he had a problem, but I told him you couldn't come to the door, and when I told the man that I was your daughter, he agreed to see me today, at a bakery."

"Why didn't you wake me up?!" he yelled.

"You were sleeping!"

"I can wake up! You could have gotten hurt! And-"

"But I _didn't_!"

He stared at me. I couldn't tell if it was with rage, or worry, but it was a mixture.

"Dad. Just, let me go on this case. I _promise_ if something goes wrong, or I get in trouble, I'll call you _first_."

He thought about it for a while, but eventually said, "Alright."

I smiled. I was going on a case!


End file.
